


Valentine's Day Drabbles

by sdwolfpup



Category: Farscape, Slings & Arrows, due South
Genre: Friendship, Gen, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Schmoop, Valentine's Day, car schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-15
Updated: 2007-02-15
Packaged: 2018-11-07 03:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11050152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sdwolfpup/pseuds/sdwolfpup
Summary: I fulfilled 5 Valentine's Day Drabble requests focused on friendship (and car schmoop, and a totally cheating Fraser/Vecchio one, too).





	Valentine's Day Drabbles

**Geoffrey & Anna (Slings and Arrows)**

“I _hate_ Valentine’s Day. I hate how fucking commercialized it is. I hate how it crassly treats the notion of love as equivalent to baubles and candy. And I hate those shit-tasting candy hearts!”

Anna looked up from her desk. “Good morning, Geoffrey.”

“Good morning, Anna. Happy Sell-Your-Love-For-Diamonds Day.” He disappeared into his office and slammed the door behind him. Anna sighed and came out from behind her desk clutching a small pink teddy bear and Geoffrey’s regular morning mug of coffee. She knocked once on his door, hid the bear behind her back, and entered without his permission. He was slouched in his chair, staring at Oliver’s skull on his desk, and saying “I really think you should mind your own damn business.”

“Geoffrey?”

He glanced up at her, and with his hair long and mussed and the guilt on his face, he looked nothing so much as a little boy who’d been caught breaking a window. “Anna.”

“I brought you coffee.” She held the mug up.

“I see that.” He straightened in his chair, ran his hands along the surface of his desk. “Just set it here. I’m quite busy right now. Lots of things to do.”

His desk was bare except for the skull. “I see that,” she murmured, setting the mug in the middle of the empty space. With a deep breath, she set the bear down next to it, leaning the bear against the chipped ceramic. He stared at it.

“I got you a bear,” she explained.

Geoffrey picked it up, tugged at the little white shirt it wore that said “Theater Geek,” turned it over as though he expected something to fall out the top, and then set it back down again, leaning it against the skull. “Indeed you did.”

“I thought it might be a nice little gift for Valentine’s Day.” He lifted an eyebrow at her so she added, “I don’t think your friendship is equivalent to the cost of a pink teddy bear, Geoffrey. I just thought it would be something to make you happy.”

He smiled at her, bright and pleased. “And so it has. Thank you, Anna, it’s very sweet of you.”

She smiled back. “You’re welcome.” Anna turned to leave, then was stopped at the door when he called her name.

“You don’t have to buy me gifts, Anna. Hell, I should be buying them for you.” He tapped the side of his mug. “You bring me coffee every morning, and I’m positive that’s not actually a part of your job description.”

“Well, I don’t mind.”

“But it’s still a gift. One of the many little gifts you give every day.” He lifted the mug, gestured at her with it so forcefully that some of the coffee spilled over the side. “Here’s to you, Anna. On Valentine’s Day and every damn day.” She heard the phone ringing at her desk, so she smiled a little and excused herself to go pick it up. And when a harried florist showed up late that afternoon with a bouquet of roses – “the last roses in the whole city” he’d said – with a card that read “To: Anna, From: The ungrateful, unwashed masses, You’re worth more than fucking flowers, too,” she tucked the card away in her top drawer so she could read it again later, and she tried very hard not to cry.

 

**Chiana & John (Farscape)**

“Hey, uh, John?”

John lifted his head a little to peer at the doorway, but the space flu he’d picked up had made his eyesight blurry, and all he could see was a gray-and-black blob. “Yeah?” he groaned.

“Should I come back later?”

He wanted so much to say yes, but the blob was starting to get clearer and he could read the tension in her, clear as day. Chiana was never one to hide her feelings, and even if she’d wanted, her body would give it all away. “Nah, come in, Pip.” John tried to push himself up, but could barely get his arms under him. “I’m just gonna lay here, though.”

“That’s fine.” She entered with unusual hesitance, and that woke John up quicker than coffee.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. There’s nothing wrong. Here.” She thrust something in his face and his eyes crossed trying to follow it.

“Woah, wait, hold on.” John pushed his head back into his pillow, trying to make it out. Whatever it was, it was very pink. “What is this?”

Chiana dropped it on his chest. “It’s something for you, you frellnik. Just take it already.” She folded her arms and stared down at him while he picked it up. The paper was thick, and rough, kind of like –

“Is this construction paper?”

“I don’t know. Bobby gave it to me. Do you need me to open it for you?”

“No, Chiana, I’ve got it. Just give me a microt.” John unfolded the paper, saw it was a badly cut-out heart shape with his name printed in the middle in thick block letters. “This is great, Pip. Really great.”

The looseness returned to her then and she settled down at the foot of his bed, folding her legs under her. “You like it? I learned about all of your Earth celebrations. I liked this one, it’s about love.”

“It should be at least,” John murmured. He flattened the heart out against his chest, running his fingers over the ragged edges, and smiled. 

 

**Stark & D'Argo (Farscape)**

“Are you sure this is wise?” Stark whispered to his companion.

“It would be if you’d stop talking.” D’Argo’s voice was a low rumble, so soft that it was hard to understand him. But the look on his face spoke clearly enough. Stark held up his hands to forestall any violence and they continued creeping down the corridor towards John’s room.

Stark tried not to say anything more, but with every step they took he was feeling less and less at ease with this. “Why do I have to come along?” he finally burst out in a frenzied whisper. “You can do this on your own.”

D’Argo pushed him back into the wall with one hand, and leaned down into Stark’s face. “Because I need a lookout. Now stop complaining and follow me. We don’t have much time. Aeryn can only keep him distracted so long.”

“That’s what you think,” Stark muttered. They made it to John’s room without incident – or conversation – and stood outside staring at each other. “Well go on,” Stark said. “It’s your plan.”

“Yes, but I’m not going to let a one-eyed man keep watch.”

“But it’s _your_ plan. I can’t do it.”

“Stark.” It was amazing how one word could threaten so much, but the Luxan was a master at it.

“All right,” Stark said, ducking inside. It was dark in John’s room, and the ambient light from the corridor wasn’t doing much good. Stark waved his hands around in front of him to try to keep from hitting anything, but he still accidentally kicked something soft anyway. When it yelled, “Yotz!” in Rygel’s voice, Stark screamed and fell backwards out into the corridor. He was lying on the floor when D’Argo leaned over him.

“What the frell happened?”

“I kicked Rygel,” Stark hissed. “What’s he doing in there? He’ll tell on us for sure.”

D’Argo picked Stark up by his tunic and hauled him to his feet. “He was supposed to be the warning for the surprise party,” D’Argo said, before pushing Stark back into the room.

The lights were on now and the whole crew was there, like they’d appeared out of thin air. “SURPRISE!”

Stark clapped both hands to his mouth. “I don’t understand! Why are they all here?”

John, grinning wide, stepped forward and clapped Stark on the back. “It’s your birthday, Astro. Or what Pilot could best peg as your birthday. D’Argo tricked you to get you here. I can’t believe you were gonna steal something from my room.”

“No, no, that’s not what I was going to do at all. I didn’t even want to come. He _made_ me.”

But John was laughing, and he was patting Stark on the back again. “I’m just pulling your leg. Come on, we made you what approaches cake.”

Stark couldn’t stop staring at everyone, smiling at _him_. D’Argo had his hand on Stark’s shoulder, nudging him forward.

“Come on, Stark,” John said, “the first piece is for you.”

 

**Riv/GTO (due South)**

It was amazing how much could be said with a honk of the horn. The Riv had had long conversations with the trucks it had passed just in the span of a single short horn blast. And you couldn’t mistake meaning either, because although a honk sounded the same to the untrained ear, to a car it held a million nuances that formed the punctuation and meaning of language. Which is why when the Riv had honked its feelings to the GTO, and the GTO had responded with a baffled “What did you say?”, the Riv had fumed about it for weeks afterward, ignoring the GTO completely, even when it had offered to break down in time for the next race night so the drivers would take the Riv instead. _Too little too late_ , the Riv thought.

Then on Valentine’s Day, the GTO had woken the Riv up with the longest, most complicated horn the Riv had ever heard. It was an entire sonnet devoted to the Riviera, bespeaking all of the Riv’s charms: its smooth green paint, the roar of its engine, the way its tires hugged the road when they were chasing a bad guy. The Goat went on and on, saying how it had never shared a garage with a better car, how it wanted to share oil with the Riv for the rest of its life, how it was always proud to go on roadtrips with the Riv at its side. By the time it was done, the Riv might as well have been painted pink, it was so embarrassed and pleased.

“So,” the GTO ended. “What do you think of that?”

The Riv smiled to itself. “What did you say?”

 

**Fraser/Vecchio (due South)**

Ray wouldn’t have looked up at all, except Fraser patiently explaining, “They’re handcuffs, you see,” would’ve made anyone look up from the most interesting of cases and this case wasn’t that interesting to begin with. Fraser was in the red uniform today - _appropriate_ Ray thought with a smirk – and was holding something in his hand that Elaine and the Duck boys were huddled around. Dief slipped between Fraser’s legs and trotted over to Ray, muzzle pulled back in what looked like a grin. He had a pink ribbon tied loosely around his neck.

“That is very manly of you,” he told Dief, before giving him the half jelly donut he’d been saving for the wolf. Fraser had excused himself by then and caught this last bit with a disapproving frown, but he merely sat down at Ray’s desk without reprimanding either of them. Verbally, at least. “Hey, Benny. Whatcha got there?”

“It’s a gift, Ray. For you.”

“You got me handcuffs?” He was blushing even as he asked the question, lowering his voice on the last word.

“Ah, not entirely. And it’s not from me, it’s from Diefenbaker.” Fraser set the box down in front of Ray. Ray peered through the clear plastic and saw handcuff-shaped chocolates – as well as a badge and a policeman. He grinned. “Dief bought me chocolates?”

“Well, I bought them, but it was his idea.” Diefenbaker, sitting at attention, woofed. “He wanted to show you his appreciation.”

Ray turned to the half-wolf. “That’s, uh, that’s really thoughtful, boy. Thanks.” Dief barked again and then, apparently sensing the sugar cookies Elaine had brought in, abandoned Ray and Fraser for the snack table.

Ray poked at the chocolate through the cellophane. “So Dief got me a Valentine’s Day gift.” He peeked up at Fraser, who shifted a little in his chair. “I’ve never gotten a Valentine from a wolf before.”

“Occasionally he can be quite thoughtful.”

“I’m sure.” Ray poked the chocolates again. “Canadians are very thoughtful.” Fraser didn’t bite on that lead. “What about you, Benny?”

Fraser swallowed and tried to look naïve. “Pardon, Ray?”

“Did Dief get you anything for Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh.” His shoulders relaxed a little. “No. He’s not that thoughtful.”

Ray poked the box one more time and then let the matter drop. They spent the day filling out paperwork, Fraser idly whittling and eventually taking over typing while Ray dictated to him. It was a fairly peaceful day; Welsh only yelled at Ray once and they didn’t have to climb in any dumpsters or walk through any sewers, and by the end of it, Ray was in a good mood, whistling as he filed the last of the cases. They walked out to the Riv, and Ray fingered the card he’d had stashed in his coat pocket all day. He was carrying the chocolates in his other hand, the box edge sharp against his palm.

Once they were parked in front of Fraser’s apartment, Ray handed Fraser the card, not looking at him, just holding it out in Fraser’s general direction with a short, “Here.”

He waited while Fraser read the card, and tried not to fidget too much in the silence.

“Ray,” Fraser finally said.

Ray couldn’t stand it anymore. “I’d talked myself out of giving that to you, you know,” he said before Fraser could. “But then you brought the chocolates in, and I know you’re embarrassed by this kind of stuff, Benny, I get that, but you don’t have to use Dief as an excuse. It’s ok for them to be from you. I’d be ok with that. That’s why I gave you the card, so you’d know.”

Ray took a deep breath and looked over at his friend. Fraser looked a lot more serious than Ray would have liked at this juncture.

“Ray,” Fraser repeated. “The chocolates were Diefenbaker’s idea.” The air seemed to thicken then, and Ray had trouble breathing. “But I was not entirely truthful earlier. It appears that Diefenbaker did, in fact, get me something for Valentine’s Day. Something wonderful.” And he smiled at Ray.


End file.
